"
So I had to tell her about Mary. I'll tell you, too, before I forget
details and for heaven's sake get them right! You never can tell
when your knowledge may be needed. In the first place there is the
name. I'm rather proud of that. I had to choose it at a moment's
notice and I did not hesitate. Desire herself says it is a lovely
name. And so safe--amn't I right in the impression that every second
girl in Bainbridge and elsewhere is called Mary? Mary, my Mary,
might be anybody.
Here, then, are the main facts. I have had (pre-war) a serious
attachment. It was an affection tragically misplaced. She did not
love me. She loved another. She may, or may not, have married him.
(It would have been better to have had the marriage certain, but I
didn't see it in time.) I will never care for another woman. Her
name was Mary. Please tabulate this romance where you can put your
hand on it. I may need your help at any time. As a doctor your aid
would be invaluable should it become necessary for Mary to decease.
And now to leave romance for reality. Your long and lucid discourse
on masked epilepsy was most helpful. It was almost as informing as
Li Ho's diagnosis of "moon-devil." Both have the merit of leaving
the inquirer with an open mind. However--let's get on. If you have
had my later letters you will know that circumstances indicated an
elopement. But the more I thought of eloping, the more I disliked
the idea. My father was not a man who would have eloped.
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